


Exit to Aquator

by Morteamore



Series: Kinktober 2019 [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Chastity Device, Collars, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kinktober 2019, Muzzles, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sadism, Under-negotiated Kink, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: After answering an invitation to join Aurelia Hammerlock at an exclusive resort on the planet Aquator, Timothy Lawrence indulges in one too many cocktails and ends up as one of her 'pet' projects.





	Exit to Aquator

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinktober prompts: Pegging, Bondage, Dom/Sub, and Dubcon

The howl that tore up Timothy’s throat could not escape, confined to his mouth by the synthetic muzzle strapped around his jaw, keeping it held in a restrictive cradle. His heterochromatic eyes were wide to the point that they consisted, for the most part, of stark white sclera. The irises rolled upward, following the path of the burning red candle being held aloft over his bare chest.

“Really, pet, you look absolutely terrified,” came the condescending voice of the woman holding it. Her manicured nails shifted on its thick base, its flame flickering closer. “This won’t hurt you a bit. And if it does? Well, what’s a tiny amount of pain for your mistress’ whims?”

The cuffs and chains around where the doppelganger was secured to the wooden cross rattled as he struggled against them. His back arched off the structure, inadvertently shifting him closer to the candle. Almost too late, he realized the heat was becoming too intense and shifted backward. But there was not much room to maneuver overall. Upright, the cross stood erect behind him, his ankles also bound to it, keeping his legs spread and immobile.

It was hard to pinpoint how Timothy had landed himself in this predicament. The memories were vaguely there, as if clouded over by a mind that wished to suppress them. After Jack had decided to hole up with Nisha for a near-endless victory celebration that likely involved all manners of illicit sex, drugs, and violent acts, Timothy had found himself cut loose and adrift, no clear indication of what he was meant to be doing. That meant when Aurelia Hammerlock extended an invitation for him to join her for drinks at an exclusive resort on Aquator, he all but jumped at the chance. The Baroness scared the living shit out of him; maybe not so much as Nisha did, but she was still twisted in her own way. Timothy was lonely, though, and he didn’t need to pretend to be Jack when in her presence. As far as he was concerned, the pros overthrew the cons.

The only drawback was that he’d been roofied by her hand. 

Alright, that wasn’t exactly true. 

He had probably just indulged in one too many Gargleblasters, since they were all on Aurelia’s credit. And, somewhere in the midst of his memories, he remembered she’d asked for his signature, him stupidly thinking it was some infatuation with Jack she might have had. 

It definitely hadn’t been an infatuation with Jack. 

And that resort on Aquator had not been exclusive because of the class of its clientele; it had been exclusive to catering to their particular _tastes_.

A fat bead of liquid formed beneath the candle’s flame, hanging on to its partially melted edge by a thin strand that was threatening to snap. Timothy struggled again, his panicked cries muffled, the sound of metal clashing against metal deafening. Aurelia clucked her tongue at him. 

“Can’t you calm yourself for just a second?” she chastised. Her free hand reached out between his legs, hefting the heavy structure made of banded metal that kept his cock entrapped, the silvered tip of it carved with a harpy’s head. “How unruly you are, pet. I may just have to force some discipline upon you.”

The candle tilted further, the fat dollop finally breaking away from the surface, followed by several smaller droplets. Timothy was shaking his head, whatever words he was trying to speak coming out garbled, becoming higher in pitch as the hot wax splashed against his smooth chest. It barely rolled downward before sticking fast to the skin, forming a thin, membranous film of blood red.

“There, that wasn’t so bad.” 

Nails tapping the candle base, more splashes of melted wax rained down, spattering the doppelganger’s collarbone, coalescing. The baroness’ palm shifted so that she was cupping his balls, rolling the delicate orbs between her fingers. She closed her fingers around them, nails digging into the sensitive, thin flesh.

Hips trying to shift away, Tim only aided her in tightening the vice around his scrotum. The doppelganger’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, obscured by the thick band of the black collar secured around his neck.

The candle continued to drip, the plop of liquid inaudible except for the dampened squeals that wrenched from Tim’s mouth each time they made contact, searing hot for a flash of a moment. He’d ceased his struggles, but his shoulders heaved with his heavy breathing.

Aurelia’s fingers, so much like prickling thorns, released him. They moved upward, grasping the silver hoop dangling from the front of his collar, tugging it till he gasped for air.

“How’s you derriere fairing, darling?” Aurelia had leaned in close, the plump bow of her scarlet painted lips nearly touching his. Fiery flame came dangerously close to his cheek, luckily only heat grazing him. “That plug is not too girthy for you, is it?”

Torn between answering, Tim let the silence hang on the air too long. He was terrified what she’d do if he said it wasn’t; equally as anxious to admit that it sort of was. Either way, she’d probably find some reason to dole out punishment.

“Answer me, pet.” More hot wax dribbled down to join the amorphous mass on his chest, his reactions subsided to soft hisses at this point. “A simple nod or head shake will do.”

The doppelganger took his time answering. But finally he gave a slight shake of his head, his well coiffed hair, now damp with sweat, clumping against his brow.

“How very, very good. Let’s get you down from there then, shall we? I’m sure you’re keen to see what else I’ve in store for you.”

Though he was downright the opposite of that statement, he made no gesture of protest. When her hand slid to a switch, unlocking the chains keeping him secure and spread-eagled, he nearly crumpled to his knees. Stronger than she looked, she caught him, directing his limp form over to a low bench a few feet away. It resembled a wooden sawhorse with padding, a hassock protruding from each side, also padded, and fitted with restraints. Unfolded in half upon it, Tim felt her nails trace the angry, red welts across his back. They were the marks of her flogger, which she’d set upon him earlier to ‘break him in.’ His wince was suppressed as she applied the slightest of pressure to them. But then she swiftly moved on, securing his wrists with quick adjustments, moving to the backs of his legs to lock the straps there in place.

His limbs forced apart, muscles strained, though not as much as they had been on the cross, Tim felt even more vulnerable and exposed than he had been. Keeping his head lifted to see what was happening took effort. It was easier to keep his gaze on the area rug beneath him. He wanted to track what Aurelia was doing, though, wanted to watch her every move like a rakk on tender prey far below. 

The lacy blue and white striped corset she wore stayed in place, the tops of her breasts almost too much for the cupped support to handle, threatening to spill out as they quivered precariously. They made an appetizing arrangement of the line between her cleavage and throat, which was accented by her choker. The snug material of her pants—made out of some kind of animal hide—clung to her skin as she attempted to peel them off, the sight of her thigh and calf muscles being slowly unveiled making Tim’s mouth dry. She was wearing the tiniest landing strip of blue panties, the kind that made one wonder why the person had even bothered. Once her boots and pants had been removed, the undergarment was stripped off as well. She balled it in her fist, shoving it in Tim’s face. 

The barrier of Tim’s muzzle kept the panties from any real direct contact. Through the perforations meant to allow him oxygen, however, the scent of her crept in, musky and heady all at one. The doppelganger’s cock twitched in its metal confines, eager for release in its tortured and neglected state. He must of closed his eyes, must have whimpered pitifully.

“Poor pet, so eager to bury yourself ‘twixt my thighs.” The Baroness moved away, taking her cloying scent with her. Tim focused enough to watch her cross the room and open an over-sized coffer. “Perhaps if you were Jackie boy himself, you might have already obtained that goal. Alas, you aren’t really him. Someone of your ilk has to simply set less lofty goals.”

The device she came away with was nothing short of intimidating. With a bulbous head that resembled no human being Tim had ever met’s genitals, the shaft was rife with banded plates as if it were armored on top, almost ovaline in the middle. The underside, rippled with protruding veins, seemed to at least be of a normal design. There was no scrotal structure, just a hooked extension that curved inward on itself, forming a sideways ‘U’.

His gaze followed her as she walked around behind him, which made him have to turn his head at an awkward angle. The base of the anal plug currently snug inside him was seized, tugged out in one smooth motion as if she were pulling a cork on a bottle of champagne. She set it carefully aside, hands stroking the length of the prosthetic phallus. Then she was aligning the hooked part between her legs, working it inside her with a few sharp breaths. On the shaft, she applied lube from a small bottle, smearing it into the faux skin. 

Palms slapped down on his ass and spread him wide, slipping with the greasy residue that clung to them. Thankfully the muzzle saved him from the extensive embarrassment his startled yelp would have caused.

“I hope you’re quite prepared for me, darling. I do say I can be quite rough with my toys.” 

Because the muscles in his neck were screaming in agony, Tim told himself. That’s why he turned away from the sight. Not because he didn’t want to witness the exact moment the wide head of the dildo penetrated him. No, he was braver than that.

Something slippery and unyielding pressed against his hole. He tensed, knowing it was probably the worst thing for his body to do in those moments. At the very least, he was already worked open by the plug. But that did little to soothe his discomfort, even less so when Aurelia began making leeway. The toy spread him wide, body quaking, hands balling into fists, the cuffs feeling like they were cutting off his circulation. He realized he was pulling too hard at them, strangling his own bones and muscles until they ached. 

Aurelia didn’t wait for Tim to relax, or even for him to adjust to her intrusion. Latching on to the back of his collar for leverage, she yanked him against her body, his broad back arching, muscles twitching there as she slammed her hips forward. The impact jarred him, made him cry out and curse in a colorful explosion, most of it only making it past his lips as mangled nonsense. His desires burned within in a stalemate, simultaneously wanting to crawl away from what was being done to him and revel in it. Sweat dripped down into his eyes as Aurelia found her rhythm, the glide of her hips unbroken as she drilled into him, the toned muscles in her thighs flexing with the power of her thrusts. The strap-on—if he could even call it that, with the obvious lack of any straps present—seemed to conform to the contours of his body, reaching those deep depths of pleasure with such perfection that it threatened to spoil him. Huffing out his ecstasy, inhaling it back within the confines of his muzzle like it was some heady vaporous gas, he swayed between feeling like he was going to lose consciousness and feeling empowered by animal lust.

The cries cutting through the air, the grunts and gasping breaths—Tim realized it wasn’t himself making those noises, couldn’t possibly be. Awash in her own slice of euphoria, the Baroness seemed to be getting into the act herself, despite her more detached role. Sharp nails pierced the meat of his shoulders, dragging down across the older flogging marks. A slender palm cracked against his ass; hard, sending his bindings clattering. Then it was burying itself in his hair, digging through his copious brown locks until it got a secure hold. Aurelia wrenched Tim’s head back, the unblemished arch of his neck bulging against his collar, all but choking him.

“Such a good and obedient pet you are, now that I’ve culled you,” she purred at him in-between subtler noises, continuing to ride him without breaking her momentum. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated just how well you’ve been trained by your rightful master. Jackie does have a way of commanding one’s obedience, doesn’t he?” She sighed, giving a particularly pointed thrust, the length within Tim striking against his prostate. He nearly caterwauled with the intensity, but the grip she still had on him kept it contained. “Perhaps I could reward you with your prize now, since you’ve earned it.”

Though Timothy’s gaze was directed in an obtuse angle, the look in it was pleading. He prayed silently to whatever deity was listening, and it seemed one or another decided to acknowledge him, as Aurelia gave one more poignant thrust and was withdrawing. 

When she’d pulled out entirely he felt empty, bereft, as if he’d been hollowed out and filled with air. His muscles twitched in yearning of release, but there was none to be found. The device around his cock wouldn’t allow him that relief.

Aurelia released him, leaning over him as she panted for breath, seconds passing into minutes as she regained some semblance of composure. Tim could hear the soft wet sounds of her working the end of the phallus she held within her free, her body shuddering as it slipped to the floor with a thunk. The Baroness didn’t bother retrieving it, instead moving around to face him, his gaze steadied at crotch level. He could see the translucent remnants of her arousal glistening on her thighs, her scent so heavy now it threatened to drown him.

Without much hassle, Timothy’s muzzle was unbuckled. Aurelia ripped off the aerated device, her grip seizing his chin. One of her feet came up to rest alongside where his hand was locked to the hassock, almost crushing it. The view of the swollen, flushed folds of her sex and her engorged clit made the drool clinging to his lips pool even thicker.

“Don’t be a shy pet, now. Go on and claim this opportunity I’ve granted you, and I’ll sing you the praises you so rightfully deserve.”

Voice hoarse from disuse, unbridled desire choking him, Tim finally spoke.

“Yes, Mistress,” he croaked out, shifting forward as far as he could go on the bench. “I would like that.”

“Of course you would, darling.” Her hand coaxed him ever closer, and suddenly there was no more distance to close. His tongue darted out, slipping tentatively against her labia, slinking along them in exploration like something stalking prey, all careful and languid. “That’s quite a delightful use of your tongue. Excellent technique. But you could stand to be more aggressive.”

His nose flush to her folds, Tim ventured further, tongue pushing past them to tease at her entrance, running the length of her sex till it was flickering at her clit. His education had come from Jack, that passion the man had schooled him with during those private lessons in pleasing folk of the female persuasion becoming infectious. He wrapped his lips around the nub, sucking at the erect flesh, each pull of lips and tongue gaining more force until a harmonious moan crested over Aurelia’s lips. The Baroness palmed the back of his head, pushing him against her as if he were a mere object for her pleasure, his tongue diving into her depths as far as it could venture. All too soon he was rewarded with her great gasps for air, her ragged cries as her fluids tantalized his tongue and flooded his mouth. Her body quaked around him, threatened to collapse on top of him. Perhaps deeming him worthy of her mercy at last, she willed herself to stay upright, shoving his head away before her body could betray her.

Later, getting him comfortable in bed, Aurelia unlocked the device caging in his cock and set him free, so to speak. Using one of Hyperion’s patented jerk-off devices, she brought him to quick and explosive orgasm, his balls draining the last of the tension that coursed through his body as he painted his chest and stomach—still decorated with the remnants of their earlier endeavors with melted wax—in white and globular streams. Tim’s world went fuzzy and white around the edges, awareness only returning to him as Aurelia’s weight shifted on the bed. She had stretched out alongside him, panties back on (at least until they decided it was time for another round), ECHO device somehow having found its way into her hand.

“And that should put the finishing touches on things, pet,” she was saying to him without looking at him. “Half a million credits, delivered to, well, decidedly _not_ Handsome Jack. I hope it’s an efficient amount.”

Timothy blinked, his heterochromatic gaze transfixed on the ECHO display he could clearly see from his angle on the bed.

“Wh…that’s—I can’t accept that. That’s more than even Jack’s given me yet. I’m not a freakin’ whore.”

“No, no.” She waved her elongated nails at him. “I don’t want any whores in my bed. They tend to breed disease, and _that_ I really don’t care for. This little sum is to ensure that, should you feel the need down the line for some alternative companionship, so to speak, you’ll seek out moi above all others. Nothing more.” 

“I…don’t see how that’s _really_ any different. But, alright. I mean, I guess? If you enjoyed it that much? Just, let’s negotiate things a bit before hand, alright? I’m not that big a fan of being drunkenly tricked into signing a sex contract.”

“Can do, darling. Don’t you worry about that, anyway. That contract won’t be coming up again in my repertoire anytime soon. It’s already expunged its use.” 

Where his head was braced on a pillow, a loud gulp came from Timothy. He closed his eyes.

“Swell,” he murmured. “Just really, really swell.”

“Quite.”


End file.
